


Desperate Measures

by lonelylivesofthewicked



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Human!Caroline, thief!caroline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:42:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelylivesofthewicked/pseuds/lonelylivesofthewicked
Summary: Klaus finds a thief in his home.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 94





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Marianas Trench song of the same name.

Caroline was frozen in fear, every muscle painfully locked up. She’d known it was a bad idea, knew the rumors, but starvation could make anyone desperate. Looking into the man’s eyes, though, she wondered if she would’ve been better off dying.

* * *

_Hunger clawed deep in her belly, struggling to find any source of nourishment from what was left of her body. She’d been hungry plenty of times before, but this was the longest she’d gone without food. Scraps were increasingly difficult to find as she staggered through the streets, body protesting every movement violently._

_She finally gave herself a small break, sliding down a wall to sit on the wet stone. Keeping her eyes open was a battle she was terrified to lose. It would be so easy to let them slide closed, to escape to that sweet abyss of oblivion, but the chances of never waking up again were too great. Nails digging craters into her palms, she watched people mill about to keep herself occupied._

_Caroline had wandered into the richer parts of the city in hopes of finding bigger piles of trashed food. While it enraged her that people could so willfully toss away what she and plenty of others begged for, she had to pick her battles and wasting anger on the rich wasn’t worth it._

_The cloak she’d snagged from an inn’s coat closet hid her ratty dress and lack of shoes from those around her. And she’d stopped at the pump only an hour earlier to hydrate and wash the dirt from her body, so she blended in well enough._

Enough lingering, Forbes, _she thought to herself._ Time to get up.

_Standing took longer than she wanted to admit, and she desperately fought off the shaking of her hands. She forced herself into a casual stance, a mimicry of a young lady who belonged there. Carefully examined each house as she passed, trying to ascertain the number of occupants and if they were currently out._

_She nearly stumbled when she came upon one of the more opulent homes of the street, startled by the front door opening. Caroline recognized this house, but not from her own memory. The other street kids had warned her, warned anyone desperate enough to be reckless, of that house. The occupants were mysterious, and many who wandered too close tended to not return. The air around it stank of fear. Caroline turned quickly as two figures exited the house, keeping herself as relaxed as possible while hiding her face._

_The two mystery people were arguing quietly about being late for something. A man and woman from the sound of their voices, although Caroline refused to look up and confirm. For a moment, she felt eyes on her and her casual façade slipped, body locking up. The pressure disappeared as the man and woman stepped into their carriage, although the creeping crawl of death remained on her skin._

_Once the carriage sounds were distant, Caroline looked back at the house. Through the windows she could see the riches of the home—goblets of gold, sparkling chandeliers, lace linen curtains. Part of her tried to force herself to keep walking, to remember the rumors. The louder part focused on the fact that the occupants had just left, and how just a handful of their expensive baubles could feed her for months. At war with herself, it was her cramping abdominal muscles that made her slip around the back to find an open entrance._

* * *

Which was how she found herself struggling to breathe as a large hand encased her throat. She’d found plenty of food, having sneaked around the staff in the house to hide herself in the pantry. Had carefully taken small slices of bread, an apple or two, a chunk of cheese. Not enough to be missed, but ideally enough to keep her going until she could sell the trinkets hidden in her cloak. But her cramping had gotten worse, and she threw up the little amount of bread she’d cautiously eaten. The dizziness was unbearable, and she had passed out shortly after vomiting.

Waking up by being thrown on a wall and choked was unpleasant. The man doing it was absolutely terrifying.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” The man sneered.

Caroline coughed, made worse and more violent by the chokehold. Did he really expect an answer when she couldn’t even _breathe_?

Sensing this, the man eased the pressure back a notch, glittering eyes never leaving her face. Breathing deeply, she gave the man a once-over: dirty blond curls, full raspberry lips, gray-blue eyes that pierced the soul. The feeling of death lurking returned, and the urge to puke reared its ugly head again.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I was—”

“I’m not interested in apologies,” he interrupted, lips twisting into a sneer.

Fear was suffocating her almost as much as his hand.

“Hunger,” she finally spat out, swallowing back bile. “So hungry…”

Something she couldn’t identify shifted in his eyes. “So you thought you’d help yourself to _my_ food, in _my_ home, and get away without consequences? Or did you perhaps do more than that?” His hand dropped completely from her throat in favor of ripping her cloak off. She dropped to the ground unceremoniously, and she scrambled into standing despite her body’s protests. There was little she could do as he pulled the gold trinkets out of the pockets. “My, my. Hungering for more than a bite?”

Words stuck in her throat as his face transformed. Black veils pulsating on his cheeks, black where the whites of his eyes should’ve been, and irises a blazing gold. His canines extended, and at the back of her mind she thought, _my father was right_. The stories told to her on the crossing from America, the lessons he’d forced her to sit through to protect her mind from monsters, it was all real and now she would die at a monster’s hand.

The man— _thing_ —prowled forward, trapping her against cornered shelves. He gripped her chin, making her look into his eyes. The pupils dilated and constricted as he instructed, “Don’t move or make a sound.”

Then his fangs were tearing into the delicate flesh of her neck. The scream in her throat came out as a pained squeak, and she cursed the fact that whatever he’d done made it so she couldn’t push off him. Her hands twitched in effort though.

The creature tore himself back from her, and Caroline mustered enough strength to weakly cover her bleeding wound. His eyes narrowed, head tilted in calculation and curiosity.

“Interesting,” he drawled.

Caroline’s thoughts were all over the place. Confusion about what had just happened, his attempts to control her mind, the understanding that her father hadn’t been riding the crazy train when he explained the supernatural world to her. And anger for the fact that he never told her about whatever the hell the creature in front of her was.

“Tell me, sweetheart, how did you resist my compulsion? You’ve no vervain in your system.”

Her brain felt like a train barreling down a track with missing pieces. Her dizziness hadn’t abated, made only worse by her fresh wound, the cramping had intensified, and the thirst that’d crept in while she slipped through the house now had her parched. She leaned on the shelves to stay upright.

“Vervain?” Her father had mentioned something about that plant, but she’d forgotten a lot of what he’d said when she had to focus on things like eating and keeping warm.

He was still watching her with an uncomfortable intensity. The black veins and eyes had disappeared, but she could still see flecks of gold in his blue gaze. “Come with me. We have much to discuss, it seems.”

Hurting and with no other options, Caroline followed the monster slowly, keeping one hand on a wall at all times. At one point she almost fell, and the look she gave him as he helped right her had sent many people running for the hills. Her skin burned where he touched it and she refused to acknowledge the sweep of attraction through her belly. Monsters were _not_ allowed to be attractive.

He led her to a parlor where he spread himself onto a loveseat. She cautiously lowered herself into an armchair close to the door, but she was under no illusions she’d be able to make a run for it. Whatever creature gazed at her wouldn’t allow prey to escape.

“Now that we’re comfortable, perhaps we can begin with a name.” He watched her expectantly.

She allowed some of her natural sass to surface. “You first.”

There was an angry glint in his eyes, but underneath she thought she detected some amusement. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

Was she supposed to know that name? Because he said it like she’d obviously know and subsequently be afraid of him. Which was utterly ridiculous. She was already terrified. Klaus’s amusement grew at her obvious ignorance.

She mumbled out, “Caroline.”

“Care-o-line.” Her name sounded practically sinful on his tongue. “A beautiful name. Are you from America?”

She ground her teeth to contain her temper. Why bothering interrogating his meal? Did his curiosity drive him, or did he just enjoy playing with his food?

“Yes.” Maybe short answers would make him either kill her or release her faster. She chalked up the indifference of her possible murder to shock.

“And just how did you end up here? In England, love, not just pilfering from my house.”

“My father was born here. Brought me here after my mother died.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how does he feel about your choice of occupation, sweetheart?”

She huffed. “He’s dead, so I wouldn’t know.”

The weeks it took to cross the Atlantic had been hard. Disease had run rampant through steerage, and while Caroline had avoided the sickness somehow, her father hadn’t been so lucky. Losing both of her parents within months of each other hurt, even more so when the boat docked and there was nowhere for her to go. Orphaned and penniless, she’d _tried_ to find proper work, honestly, but no one wanted to hire a ‘coarse, common’ American girl with skills they deemed useless. Begging occasionally helped, and lingering around the queen’s palace on nights balls were held let her eat without guilt once in a while. The only thing she hadn’t tried was to find a madam to work for, not because she judged the women who did—a girl’s gotta eat—but because the idea of a stranger claiming her first sexual experience was a line she wasn’t willing to cross. Yet.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, and he almost sounded sincere. “He died without putting you into someone’s care?”

“I was supposed to stay with someone when I got here. I wasn’t a fan so I left.” It was much more than _dislike_ that made her leave, but that wasn’t his business.

“They must have been horrible for you to prefer sleeping on the streets.”

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her mouth. “A man the same age as my father liquored up and trying to sneak into my rooms at night is more than enough for me to bolt.”

His jaw tightened before he continued, “How was it that you began resisting my compulsion? I saw the thrall overtake you, but you didn’t quite listen to my orders.”

Her spine stiffened, angled her chin up. “Maybe quietly obeying my attempted killer wasn’t on my agenda today.”

She blinked when he appeared in front of her suddenly, eyes sharp with temper. “You might want to watch your words, sweetheart. Or I won’t just be your _attempted_ killer any longer.”

Caroline pretended her shakiness was from hunger, not fear. “It seems likely you will kill me regardless. I would prefer to die with a little dignity.”

“You appear to be dying already. When was the last time you ate? A week ago? Two?” Her grimace apparently confirmed his suspicions. “Starvation may kill you off in a couple weeks, but you are more likely to fall ill and perish from that.”

All things Caroline knew, which was why she’d taken such care to wash up and drink that morning. If only she could figure out how her thirst had gotten infinitely worse since then.

Klaus continued speaking, oblivious to her thoughts, pacing the room while he did. “And while I can fix many things, blood can only do so much. It can’t fix starvation or infections. Only give you a chance to return. And I do not feel particularly inclined to allow that since you refuse to answer my questions.”

Caroline could only process a fraction of his words as black dots danced in front of her. Slumping further into the seat had her eyelids shuddering, trying to close while she fought to stay awake. The cramping and nausea remained ever-present and it was so taxing on her. _Just a moment to rest my eyes_ was her final thought before being pulled under.

* * *

Klaus watched the mysterious human slumber fitfully on the armchair. She’d passed out quickly, almost without him noticing. Her heartbeat was irregular. Before he thought it had been her fear, but now he wondered if she indeed had caught an infection.

Her frame was emaciated, and starvation severely weakened human bodies. He focused on what he’d observed: extremely pale, dehydrated, nauseous, muscle cramps, lethargy. Cholera, maybe? The bleeding on her neck had coagulated, but the amount had been excessive for the size of the bite. No doubt from her little hummingbird heart.

But even sick, her eyes had spat fire at him. Blue flames of pure _emotion_ that shocked him. The girl was surely dying, and even then refused to give an inch. That earned his admiration, if nothing else.

And then there was the failed compulsion. She hadn’t been able to completely resist it, but the fact that she could fight it at all without vervain had troubling implications. He could charm when he wanted to, but if humans were somehow developing resistance? He would take great issue with that. Which is why he needed her to be conscious enough to provide answers.

Crouching in front of her, Klaus cut his index finger on a fang and gently traced the bite with his blood until it closed. He pulled her chin down and let a few drops hit her tongue for good measure.

While he waited for her to wake, he watched the human with curiosity. She was beautiful, that was evident regardless of her haggard state. Her dress was ripped and dirty, and she wore no shoes. The deep purple half-moons under her eyes spoke of many sleepless nights. How long had she been living on the street, he wondered? He had eaten enough thieves to scare off others, knew the warnings street urchins shared amongst themselves. How desperate she must have been to disregard them.

Klaus didn’t realize he’d been stroking her cheek until she cracked her eyes open, a small gasp escaping her. She looked worse than before the nap.

“Are you going to kill me now?” Her voice was soft, with a touch of sadness but mostly resignation.

“Do you want me to? Do you believe your life is not worth living?”

He had no idea why he wanted to know so badly. What was it about this girl, this _human_ , that made him want to crawl into her mind until he knew all her secrets?

Caroline thought about it for a few moments. “I’m tired of being in pain. Fighting to stay warm and eating rotten food just to silence my belly for an hour. Tell me what the point of being alive is if I cannot live how I choose?”

“You have a decent point. You are already dying from cholera.”

There had been an outbreak recently, but Caroline thought she’d taken precautions. She didn’t buy the miasma theory and she’d been vigilant about keeping herself clean. It was just her luck that after surviving over a year on the streets that she would perish from sickness anyone could get.

“Just as well,” she drawled, body heavy with exhaustion, “since I doubt I would have lived much longer. And no one will care for another dead orphan.”

She couldn’t interpret the look in Klaus’s eyes, but she recognized the determination that followed it.

“If you truly wish to die, then I shall let you. If you really believe that your existence has no meaning. I cannot heal you in the way you need, but I can offer you so much more. Eternity lies in front of you, should you accept it. Become a creature untouched by time or illness. Ageless. Fearless. There is a whole world out there waiting for you. Great cities, and art, and music— _genuine_ beauty. And you can have all of it. All you have to do is ask.”

The air was heavy with silence. The two stared at each other, neither of them willing to break the intense eye contact.

Finally, half-whispered almost like a secret, she said, “I don’t want to die.”

Klaus put his arms about her, shifting them on the chair until he was cradling her from behind. A soft tearing of flesh and then his bleeding wrist was shoved in front of her mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart. Drink up.”

She latched her lips onto the bite mark and swallowed the thick liquid until he pulled his wrist away. The hand that’d been petting her hair while she drank moved so he could cradle her face in both hands, the intensity she’d noted earlier blazing as he gazed at her.

“The pain will be gone when you wake up,” he promised. He leaned down a fraction to brush his lips against hers, and there was no way he didn’t notice the gasp that escaped her. “I shall be here when you wake, love.” His hands moved, an ugly _snap_ shot through the air, and her world went dark.

Waking up with the butler’s neck under her fangs, properly sated for the first time in over a year, Caroline smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a part 2 to this, if enough people enjoy it, but I'm unsure.
> 
> Also, yes I COULD be working to update Darkest Roads, but then I thought, why do that when I could write a bunch of one-shots and start another multi-chapter instead?


End file.
